Sound Fruit Novels & Stories

Aiden scolded his brother. “Meaning?” Jack raised his brow in doubt. “You’re using sound transmission in front of Davies? You know those things are like the loud music of a vibrant night club to that boy’s sharp ears, don’t you?” Aiden chuckled. Sound transmission was a method of communication that involved transmitting once voice using vibrations targeted at one particular person. They were usually inaudible to everyone else but the one for him they were intended, but there were special people like Davies who could listen in on voice transmissions no matter how astute one was. Aiden was positive that Davies heard what they had communicated.

Crunch. The not so pleasant sound of someone’s nose breaking. Before today I’m not sure that I had ever heard it, but that was the second, maybe third time within the hour, and it was something that won’t be easy to forget. Oddly enough, it was pretty similar to the sound of chips being smashed in a bag and I wondered if I’d ever be able to enjoy some sweet chili Doritos ever again without associating the two sounds together.

Her skin burned under his touch, and they marveled at the familiar sound of the small but increasingly frequent moans they emitted. Suddenly, however, as if sent from an alternate universe, the song "Here Comes The Sun" by The Beatles began to play. The sound actually came from very close by, from the iPhone that Sophie had placed on the coffee table in front of the sofa where they were. Still, it took a few seconds for them to realize it was a phone ringing and to break out of the kind of sensual trance they were in.

A sigh was all that was enough "I don't really like the smell" I said and threw it away, I already got what I wanted so we can now go. But just then, they heard a really strange sound, trees crashing like they were placed under a really great force, like a bug foot or something. "What could that be?" I thought in her head really confused. I listened to it carefully and it seemed and though it was walking over to us, ready to rip our hearts apart. Feed to on our flesh and use their blood for wine

My feet were throbbing, my hair smelled like smoke, and I was losing the little patience I had. I pulled out my phone and tapped Sophia’s name. She picked up on the second ring. “Hey Soph.” I greeted. “May? Are you okay? You sound like someone just stole your lunch.” I let out a humorless laugh. “Try my future. I just got rejected. Again.” The tears were freely flowing now. “Oh, May…” Sophia’s voice was as soft as a lullaby. She always sounded like she was speaking through a smile, calm and gentle. “I’m sorry.”

It was as if the forest itself was alive, responding to the men's efforts. The three men who were not busy with the tree had settled themselves a reasonable distance away and had pulled out a basket filled with strange-looking fruits. The fruits were large and had a rough exterior that seemed to be covered in tiny prickles. One of the men picked up a fruit and squeezed it, producing a loud squelching sound. He then tore open the fruit with his teeth, revealing a pulpy interior that was filled with a reddish-purple juice. The men all picked up a fruit and began to suck noisily on it, making loud slurping sounds as they drank the juice. The sound of their conversation mixed with the slurping a

The forest beckoned a dark sanctuary where I felt most alive. As I moved deeper into the woods, my senses heightened. The world around me thrummed with sound. I could hear the rustle of leaves, the soft scurrying of small creatures, and the rhythmic beating of hearts. Each sound resonated within me, sharp and clear, allowing me to navigate this labyrinth of trees with impeccable precision. This new world of sound was intoxicating, each heartbeat echoing a story, a life, a presence.

The mournful cry of a lonely fox echoed through the vault-still silence of the trees. A huffing wind rose then, stirring the flaps of their tent. A tinkling sound came to the ears as the first pearls of rain dropped onto the leaves. The sound was like the glassy clinking of a champagne flute, lilting and clear. A sheet of rain passed over them, and the sound intensified. The noise in the tent was like the phut-phut-phut that ripened nuts make when they hit the ground. It wasn't the soft, saturated, swollen drops of spring we were hearing; it was like ball bearings were hitting the canvas roof with force. They could also hear an occasional ker-plunking sound. The rainwater caused it to gather

Slowly the voices deemed into the background, and in their stead came the rondo of the sound of emotions. Joy was as empty as it was full. It was a tease of beauty, rich and fulfilling, seeking to encompass all things. It was like the sound of a cup of mead getting full, like the sound of tree barks cracking as they aged. It was what he believed life was supposed to sound like. It was the little things given attention. The sound of an infant’s palm creasing or an old man smiling. A child chasing a dog or a mother kissing a babe. It was the sound of everything and nothing.

The sound of the crushed can of a drink perforated the atmosphere as air squeezed out of it like a deflated hot-air balloon hissing softly into the dreary world. Whoever it was that had squashed it had done it mistakenly, there was no doubt about that. Another clamor uproared like tigers brawling for a mate starting with a grumble then growing to become something more. The sound multiplied in intensity then like thunder that had been rolling in the sky towards them, its stentorian noise struck above them, causing them to tremble and their knees turning to wet noodles.